"There is one--who is ailing--at my house," he said with difficulty. "Wilt thou come with me?"
Stephen looked up with a smile. "Peace be with thee, Ben Obed, and to all that are within thy house; yes, I will come with thee, but let me first speak with this woman, who hath patiently waited for me since the beginning of the distribution. What is it that thou wouldst ask of me, woman?"
"I have brought hither my babe," answered the woman in a low, anxious voice. "He doth not wake and smile on me as formerly, but only sleeps. Surely it is not well with him."
"If he sleep he shall do well," said Stephen, unconsciously quoting the words of his Master when told of the sickness of Lazarus. "And if God will that he wake in heaven, then wouldst thou have a child growing to manhood among the angels. Dost thou not covet this for thy child?"
"Nay, for I love him too much to wish him out of my arms," said the mother, dashing the bright drops from her eyes; "and I have not seen heaven."
"My business with thee is urgent," whispered Ben Obed imperatively. Stephen did not seem to have heard. He laid his hand on the child's head, "Thy will concerning this little one be done, O Father, in the name of Jesus."
"But thou hast not asked for his healing!" cried the mother.
"I have asked for the best that heaven holds for him, or for any one of us," said Stephen gently. "But see, thy child hath awakened," then he turned to Ben Obed. "I will go with thee," he said simply, but there was that in his eyes that caused Iddo to drop his own to the earth.
Once on the street Stephen walked swiftly, so swiftly that Ben Obed had some difficulty in keeping up with him. He exchanged glances with the messenger of Caleb who was following at a discreet distance, and the man rapidly overtook them.
"We will go this way," said Ben Obed in a hard voice. But Stephen was silent. Something in his still face angered the young man at his side beyond control. "Why dost thou not speak?" he cried in a choked voice, scarce knowing what he said.